


rice fields rippling in the wind

by ChilledIceCubes



Category: Dororo (Anime 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Gen, Hyakkimaru Is a Good Bro, Panic Attacks, Tahomaru is a good bro, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-05-20 07:16:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19371910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChilledIceCubes/pseuds/ChilledIceCubes
Summary: Tahomaru wakes up. Which isn't right because—he died. He remembers the life draining out of him, dying along with the twelfth demon.He remembers flames raging around his childhood home, the taste of ashes on the wind.He remembers his mother's soft hands around his head, lulling him to the sweet sleep of death.(She'd never done that when he was a child; that was left to the maids and nannies)He wakes up, and he sees the world through his own hazel eyes.





	1. to see it again

**I.**

Tahomaru wakes up. Which isn't right because— _he died_. He remembers the life draining out of him, dying along with the twelfth demon.

He remembers flames raging around his childhood home, the taste of ashes on the wind.

He remembers his mother's soft hands around his head, lulling him to the sweet sleep of death.

(She'd never done that when he was a child; that was left to the maids and nannies)

He wakes up, and he sees the world through his own hazel eyes.

And he screams.

And-

“Young Master! Young Master, please calm down! Hyogo and I are here, Young Master.”

It's Mutsu, her unflappable expression jarred for once. Hyogo peers out from behind her.

“You - you're both - you're alive!”

Mutsu looks hesitant and then-

“Young Master Tahomaru, Hyogo and I are both well. Has something been troubling you…?”

“Come closer, let me see you properly.”

They do as commanded, and in the flickering lamp-light, Tahomaru sees that their limbs are whole and unmarked, that plague spots do not encircle Mutsu’s neck.

He cries.

“Young Master? Young Master!”

 

**II.**

The physician is called. He prescribes rest and recuperation.

“The young lord has been pushing himself too hard,” he wheezes out.

Lord Daigo is out overseeing his lands and Lady Daigo stays in her rooms, praying to the Goddess of Mercy. Mutsu and Hyogo listen closely to the physician’s remedy, eyeing the bundles of herbs dubiously and jotting down the steps for making the medicinal tea.

Tahomaru stares out of the open rice paper window. The first spring leaves are visible from his futon. When he died, it was in the cold embrace of winter.

The physician finally leaves, after multiple reassurances of returning soon.

“Mutsu, Hyogo.”

His retainers snap to attention.

“How old am I?”

Hyogo’s mouth juts open. Once more, Tahomaru sees Mutsu's composure crack.

“Young Master, you -- celebrated your fifteenth birthday last week.”

Tahomaru died two weeks before his sixteenth birthday. He has one year. One year before his brother comes calling, one year before the ugly truth hidden by his father's beautiful lies comes out. One year before his companions, his friends, lie in broken pieces on the muddy ground. One year before his land burns.

“I have something to tell you two.”

 

**III.**

They start out skeptical, Mutsu eyeing him as if she feels he'll start declaring himself the new Buddha next.

But as he speaks, voice growing hoarse from the strain, they believe.

Hyogo shudders as he hears of his sister's death, and they both remain speechless as Tahomaru describes his own end.

“Do you believe me?”

Their eyes say everything.

_Yes._

_How we wish we didn't._

_Whatever you choose, we will follow you._

For the first time in a long while, Tahomaru sees the elusive glimmer of hope shining through the darkness. He has time, he has his friends, he has foresight.

“Let's prepare.”

 

**IV.**

The map Hyogo procures for them is yellowing at the edges, but the brush strokes are still dark and clear.

_Where is Hyakkimaru now?_

Tahomaru traces invisible lines on the crackling washi paper.

There's so little time, he realises. He needs to find his brother quickly and—and what? Trying to kill him had worked out pretty well in the last life. His laugh is quiet and mirthless.

“Young Master?”

“I need to leave this place."

They both oppose him. The land outside Daigo is dangerous and merciless, does he know how to survive there, what if he gets captured?

Tahomaru hears their objections with a slight smile curling on his lips.

He'd missed this, the back-and-forth banter, the three of them sitting around the low table, finishing each other's sentences.

“I have to do this. If I don't, there's no meaning to my being sent back in time.”

His words are sombre, and Mutsu and Hyogo fall silent in the face of them.

Their faces are resigned, and with a start, Tahomaru realises that they didn't expect to win from the beginning. He feels an overwhelming rush of fondness for them.

“Of course, I can't get ready for this by myself. I'll need your help.”

 

**V.**

Over the next few days, Tahomaru does his best to avoid both his parents; in all honesty, it's not that hard.

His father is out surveying the domain, and his mother is as distant as ever.

He feels relieved. He wouldn't have known how to face either of them.

Time passes, and finally the day arrives.

He finishes penning the letter he'll leave behind and as he sets his brush down, he eyes it critically.

_Father, Mother_

_I have realized how sheltered I am, in this peaceful domain of Ishikawa. I must see the world outside of this paradise, and prove my worthiness. I beg of you to not follow me and allow me to undertake this journey myself._

_Your son  
Tahomaru_

As he steps out, Mutsu and Hyogo appear from behind the hedges. They have three packs at the ready, and just as many horses.

“Young Master, I hope you did not seriously consider travelling out of the domain _alone_.”

He sighs.

“Getting rid of you two is harder than cleaning out a hornets’ nest.”

“We'll take that as a compliment,” says Hyogo.

And they ride.


	2. shadows in the flame

* * *

**VI.**

They abandon the horses after riding a good few miles away from Ishikawa, skirting around Sakai and Asakura territory.

The rough peasant clothing Mutsu had insisted they wear for safety’s sake feels rough against Tahomaru’s skin, and as he stands under the shade of a _kuromatsu_ tree, he realises the utter novelty of this entire situation.

If someone had told him a week ago that he would exchange silk for roughspun and traipse around the land searching for a brother he didn't even know existed, he would have called them mad.

Actually, a week ago, he would have been trying to _kill_ his brother instead. The reminder is sobering.

“There doesn't seem to be anyone around,” says Mutsu, stepping closer. She's carrying a load of firewood in her arms, quiver slung over her shoulders. To the side, Hyogo hunts for rocks to line the fire pit.

Suddenly, Tahomaru feels incredibly conscious of the fact that this is the first time in his life that he's gone traveling without being within a stone’s throw of the mansion. Food, water, shelter—things he'd never had to worry about before now seemed insurmountable obstacles. 

He observed Hyogo working a curiously bent piece of metal into sawdust, hoping he didn't look as clueless as he felt.

Of course, Mutsu still notices. 

“Young Master, would like us to show you how to start up a fire?”

 

**VII.**

An hour later, and Tahomaru is no closer to creating a spark than he is to turning lead to gold, which is to say,  _ not at all. _

He glares at the fire drill, which seems to mock his fruitless endeavor.

By now, Hyogo and Mutsu have progressed from sympathetic encouragement to badly- disguised laughter.

Just as he's about to give up, an ember finally flickers into existence.

Mutsu readies the tinder, and soon, a fire rages merrily, filling the air with smoke.

Hyogo lets out an exclamation of delight, reaching over to slap him on the back, but Tahomaru is far, far away from their little campsite in the woods.

He's surrounded by fallen pillars and burning tapestries. Rage, anger, _hate_ flow through him in an unstoppable current. He's dying, dead, burning, gone. Ash fills his lungs, suffocating him alive and he's so, so afraid—

“–aster! Lord Tahomaru! You're fine, you're with Mutsu and I!”

Reality comes back to him slowly.

The fire had been snuffed out, and the only light came from the crescent moon shining between the leaves. Hyogo was holding onto his shoulders and Mutsu stood close by, his sword sheath clasped in her arms.

“What happened?” His voice comes out hoarse.

“Young Master, you—you went into a frenzy. You tried to get your sword out and you—” Hyogo stops and hesitates.

“Tell me.”

“It was like you were fighting an enemy only you could see,” finished Mutsu.

Inhale. Exhale. Tahomaru opens his eyes.

“I must apologize to you two. If I hurt you, I—I wouldn't—”

“Young Master Tahomaru!” Mutsu's eyes flash and Hyogo stirs to attention.

“If you injured yourself, it is us who would never be able to forgive ourselves.”

And really, what can he say to that?

 

**VIII.**

An air of awkwardness hangs over their campsite in the morning, almost like a particularly persistent fog which refused to be dissipated by the sun.

“We'll avoid going into towns and villages as much as possible, and only to ask for information.”

“That will make it harder for anyone to track us down,” agreed Mutsu.

“Let's get started while the sun is still up.”

After that, everyday seems to herald something new. In no particular order, Tahomaru learns how to survive scores of mosquito bites, gut a rabbit, sleep by the fireside without panicking and—

Talk to commoners without acting like a noble.

“Have you seen a boy around my age come through?”

The old woman opens her mouth and before she can devolve into a tirade about her grandson (something which happens far too often for Tahomaru to not fear) he hurriedly adds, “He'll have prosthetics for limbs.”

Miffed at being cut off, the old lady gives a brusque shake of her head and then—

“Prosthetics?”

It's a harried looking woman, her careworn features making her look older than she should be.

“There was a strange young man who passed by sometime ago.”

“Tell me everything you remember!”

Tahomaru thought for a split-second, Mutsu's words echoing in his head.

_Young Master, it would be prudent to be undemanding when speaking with those unaware of your status._

“Please. It would be of great help to me.”

 

**IX.**

Tahomaru arrives back at the new campsite in high spirits. His search had finally borne fruit and now—

He notices the silence far too late. The ghoul takes full advantage of it.

Another thing Tahomaru had had to get used to were the daily ghoul attacks. Normally, Hyogo and Mutsu would be working in tandem with him, but right now, he's all alone.

The ghoul is a rugged creature, two wickedly curved horns atop its head and sharp talons on its feet. It seems a strange hybrid of goat and bird. Tahomaru registers the thought dimly at the back of his head and as it careens closer, he attacks.

Unsheathing his blade, he slices into its unprotected flank, narrowly avoiding getting cut by a talon. The beast howls in rage, and with a second slash, purple blood seeps into the grass, the monster in death throes.

He sighs in relief. Which is why he's completely unprepared when the second ghoul leaps out at him under the cover of the undergrowth.

Its claws slice into his chest and red-hot pain erupts through him.

Rolling out from underneath its  bulk he takes a second to rue the fact that he'll die here, without being able to change anything, save anyone. Is this karma?

His sword’s been knocked out of his hand, all the way to the other end of the clearing. The beast paws the ground hungrily. He can feel it's hot breath close by, coming closer, closer, closer and then—

Blood splatters over the tree bark and surprisingly enough, it doesn't belong to Tahomaru.

Did Mutsu and Hyogo come back in time?

The ghoul lies in scattered pieces on the forest floor. Behind it, a grey-cloaked figure sheathes its sword.

His brother doesn't look at him, but Tahomaru has eyes for nothing else.

“ _Hyakkimaru_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning to post this a week later, but all your amazing reviews provided great incentive ;)
> 
> EDIT: Thanks to @Dark_Falcon for telling me about fire drills, and clarifying that flint stones don't _actually_ start up fires.


	3. glass eyes and a porcelain face

**X.**

Foolishly enough, Tahomaru had half-expected his brother to recognize him on sight. No such thing occurs, and as he comes closer, he realises that Hyakkimaru wears bandages over his torso, and a mask on his face. Glass eyes stare sightlessly into the distance.

This is the sacrifice his father's deal brought about. In that other life, how had he ever thought it was worth it? A foundation built on evil was destined to crumble with time.

Now he was standing right next to his brother. How did one go about beginning a conversation with someone who could neither see, speak nor hear?

As fidgets restlessly, debating with himself, Hyakkimaru has already taken off.

“Hey, wait up!”

With a start, Tahomaru grabbed the cloth bag of supplies Hyogo had kept in a conveniently hollow tree trunk.

He scratches out a note on the bark with his knife, glancing up at the sky to check the sun's position.

_Found him. Going south.  
-Taho_

And then he's sprinting, twigs crackling underneath his wooden sandals, birdsong accompanying his steps.

 

**XI.**

His brother walks briskly, in swift economic steps. After a while, they fall into unison, moving forward as a single unit. It would almost be wonderful, he thinks, if it weren't for the fact that he's clueless as to how he can communicate with Hyakkimaru.

Even if he could, what would he say?

_I'm your younger brother you knew nothing about. In another life, I tried to kill you. Perhaps we can get along in this one?_

He sneaks a glance at his brother, who stares unblinkingly ahead, almost as if he sees something invisible to everyone else.

The eerie symmetry of his painted mask reminds Tahomaru of the delicate white faces of the noble girls his father had him meet in preparation for a betrothal.

 _At least_ that's _one thing I won't have to worry about_.

Just then, he trips over a root poking out of the ground. Hyakkimaru’s steps do not falter, and he wonders how a blind boy is more sure-footed than he is.

To the side, someone calls out, “Going to Heiwa Village?”

It's an old monk, clad in simple white robes, with a _biwa_ on his back.

One of his eyes is puckered shut. The other is a blind milky-white, and Tahomaru is struck with an unsettling feeling of recognition.

“I suppose so,” he shrugs. He's just following his brother around. His brother, who's blind and suddenly the following around part seems ridiculous.

The monk laughs. “You wouldn't mind an old man tagging along?”

It's not like Tahomaru can say, _Yes I would._

And besides—the monk is aged and blind. The nights are filled with dangers, the least of which are bandits and _rōnin_. Even if he wanted to, Tahomaru doubts his conscience would let him leave him behind.

So with a sigh, he says, “As long as you don't start complaining about your grandchildren.”

The monk cackles.

 

**XII.**

The three of them make an odd trio—a runaway young master, a vagabond priest and a prosthetic-laden boy.

The blind monk, as it turns out, is far hardier than his age should permit him to be.

Soon, Tahomaru lags behind his blind, limbless brother and his blind, old traveling companion. Of course, the old man notices and Tahomaru is most definitely _not_ grateful when he suggests that they break for the night in a forest clearing.

As the priest starts up a fire, Hyakkimaru goes straight for a berry-filled bush to the side and starts plucking the tiny fruits by the handful. Tahomaru would join him, but those berries seem disturbingly familiar. Perhaps they grew near Daigo? No, that didn't seem right...hadn't Mutsu shown them to him once?

With a start, he leaped for his brother.

“Those are poisonous! Spit them out, quick!”

Hyakkimaru’s sculpted face never changed. He tilts his head to the side, bird-like, as if unable to understand why Tahomaru is upset.

“My, things are quite lively when you're young, aren't they?” comments the priest.

Finally, finally, Hyakkimaru opens his mouth and spits out half-chewed berries. Immediately, Tahomaru drags him to the little brook flowing through the clearing and through an elaborate pantomime of gestures, tells him to sip the water.

By the time they settle down by the fire, Tahomaru is exhausted.

“You care greatly for your brother.”

He stiffens. “How do you know he's my brother?”

The priest gives an enigmatic smile.

“Your souls bear a striking resemblance.”

“ _Souls_?”

“What he,” says the priest with a nod towards Hyakkimaru, “and I see when we look at the world.”

As he listens, the priest speaks of the white flame of a human soul, the orange shades heralding rage and hatred, the green of nature, and finally—

“Ghouls always appear as an ugly red—almost like blood, but deeper.”

Tahomaru hesitates, but the question slips out of him regardless.

“What colour is my soul?”

The old man looks piercingly through him as he says, “White.”

Tahomaru feels relief, but then—

“Curiously, both of you have demonic flames eating away at you.”

 

**XIII.**

Repeated attempts to ask the priest what he meant by ‘demonic flames’ proved fruitless as the man remained infuriatingly vague.

At last, Tahomaru resigns himself to letting the matter go for the time being. Beside him, his brother has sunk into an approximation of sleep, the fire reflecting in his open glass eyes.

“Priest, why are you going to that village?”

The old man leans back and yawns.

“There's been talk that a monster's been sighted there, terrorising the people and suchlike.”

“ _You're_ a ghoul-hunter? An old man like you?”

The priest laughs.

“Youth always underestimates age.”

Tahomaru resolves to say no more, especially since the reminder of the old man’s astonishing endurance still sits at the back of his mind.

As he lies down on the forest floor, he realises that if the monster reveals itself to be a demon, his brother will definitely try to kill it.

He's surprised to find himself almost— _worried_. The hardened demon slayer he met in his last life and the youth who ate poisonous berries today were one and the same. Yet, Tahomaru still broods over what tomorrow will bring. As he falls into restless sleep his last thought is, _I hope Mutsu and Hyogo are alright._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will probably become more sporadic from early July to mid August since my exams are going to start, but I'll try to post more chapters whenever possible.


	4. interlude: the companions' tale

Hyogo sighs as he and his sister cut their way through the undergrowth. _What I wouldn't do for a horse to trample through this on!_

As always, his sister picks up his thoughts unerringly and gives him a disapproving glance. She's half his size, but she glides through the thicket imperiously, as if the very vines shy away from incurring her wrath.

Hyogo can sympathise with them; he's been in the receiving end of his older sister's fury enough to attain a healthy respect for her punches.

They wordlessly split up at the village gates, Mutsu to pick up supplies and Hyogo to gather up any medicine he can find. He's doubtful as to its accessibility in a little village cut off from towns, but in the wilderness, every little bit counts.

(Besides, if either of them—his sister and the young master—fell ill, and— _died—_ he'd never be able to forgive himself. The traveller's road is a harsh place, where death can come from a blade as well as an open cut)

The villagers eye him warily, and Hyogo resigns himself to curt answers and pointed requests for him to leave as soon as possible. Not that he can blame them; the village looks to have endured hard times, and outsiders are rarely welcome, even if they have fat money bags.

Suddenly, the familiar _clip-clop_ of horse hooves on soft ground is heard. Horses mean _samurai,_  and _samurai_ mean—

Trouble.

And it certainly _is_ trouble, he thinks, as Captain Akai of Daigo comes into sight. Behind him are half-a-dozen soldiers, all armed to the nines.

He spots Mutsu standing to the side, shadows disguising her features and wisely elects to do the same.

As he observes Akai’s men, he realises—something’s not right. They don't look like they've been chasing their young lord for the better part of a month, they look more like—

“Wasn't the Captain sent to guard a trade convoy to Miyamoto?” mutters Mutsu out of the corner of her mouth.

The trip from Daigo to Miyamoto takes around three month's time both ways. Captain Akai left a month ago.

—and the guards look they're being hunted by something _(someone)_

The villagers have started arguing, all of them yelling out some variation of, “ _Get out of our village!_ ” with varying degrees of politeness.

The _samurai_ do not answer, and Hyogo and Mutsu pay no heed to the commotion. Instead they listen to the hoofbeats carried on the wind. A flag comes into view.

“ _Asakura.”_

The villagers are quick to abandon the scene, running for shelter. And Mutsu and he should probably do the same but—

But they've known Guard-Captain Akai for _years_ and the Asakura _samurai_ outnumber his men twice over. And their Young Master would never forgive them if they abandoned an ally in need.

Hyogo settles into a stance and his sister readies her bow.

They probably give Akai the shock of a lifetime when they melt out of the shadows to stand beside him, but he's grateful enough for it when they clash swords with the Asakura.

 

Hyogo jumps to tackle one of the soldiers, wrestling a _katana_ from his grasp and beheading him in short order. Blood sprays from the open slash in a torrent. He tastes iron on his tongue.

The _whoosh_ of his sister's arrows finding targets are a familiar melody in the background. Someone lets out a scream; he doesn't know if it's one of theirs or the enemy's.

At last, the fight is over. An abandoned horse shies in terror, then gallops at full speed away from the carnage.

A Daigo _samurai_ lies unmoving on the ground. Akai crosses over and shuts his eyes, murmuring a prayer. Then he turns to them.

“I cannot express how thankful I am that you were here. Our convoy was attacked by Asakura men a week after leaving Daigo; I lost half my men. Perhaps if not for your presence, those who survived would have not lived past today.”

Hyogo is suddenly achingly aware of the fact that both he and Mutsu are dressed in peasant clothing, look like they've spent weeks on the road and have a conspicuous young-master-shaped hole next to them.

He can almost see the gears turning in his sister's head, searching for a way to get out of this.

Akai motions to his men to start bandaging themselves up, then he says in a low voice, not looking at either of them, “If you had said that you were the retainers of a young noble lord, I would have been obliged to take you into custody. As things stand, you're two passing travellers not connected to Daigo in any way, aren't you?”

Hyogo can hardly believe his ears.

“Yes, we're merely two ordinary travelers, somewhat skilled in martial arts. And now if you'll excuse us, we must be going.” His sister grabs his arm, and together they hurry back to the meeting place.

Hyogo still feels dazed by the time they make their way back to the campsite, but his sister's elation does not fade.

Both of them stiffen as they see that the clearing is abandoned. As Hyogo reads out the “note” Young Master had left for them, Mutsu sighs.

They exchange identical looks of fond exasperation, and head out south.


	5. Chapter 5

**XIV.**

Tahomaru wakes with the dawn, the sweet chirping of birdsong ringing in his ears. A few feet away, Priest Biwamaru slumbers on. To the side, his brother’s eyes stay wide open, but he already knows that to Hyakkimaru, open eyes and shut ones make no difference.

He keeps his eyes closed for a while, luxuriating in the warm sunlight peeking through the canopy and the comforting melody of nature travelling its course all around him.

This is the most peaceful he's felt for what seems like a long time.

Of course, the serenity can't last forever, and he finally stirs, ready to face the new day. Nearby, Biwamaru sits up with a groan, rubbing his neck with a frown on his face. 

His brother wakes up as well, and stands abruptly, immediately heading for the stream running close by.

They've made a routine of things, between them. Tahomaru will ready the fire and guard the campsite. Hyakkimaru will return with half-a-dozen fish skewered from his blades, an arm sheath held between his teeth.

Hyakkimaru’s cloak sways in the light summer breeze and Tahomaru shouts out after him, “Don't start chewing on raw fish again!”

Hyakkimaru gives no response, but Tahomaru didn't expect one in the first place.

 

**XV.**

By the time Tahomaru gets the fire blazing, Biwamaru returns with a handful of berries and Hyakkimaru glides back into the glade. 

They have no salt, so the fish tastes bland. The berries are tart and sour. A thorn prick makes Tahomaru's  ankle ache uncomfortably.

_I could live like this forever._

Too soon, the moment passes and they ready themselves to head for the village. 

 

**XVI.**

The dirt track is dusty and well-tread. Footprints stand out on it, heralding the sign of previous travellers. As they near the village, deep grooves left by cart-wheels add to the pattern, and Tahomaru traces the way they run over older tracks, forming a never-ending pathway. 

The village gate is lopsided—half-crooked and falling to pieces. The marketplace is scarcely better. It’s a far cry from the bustling prosperity of Daigo’s villages. 

“This place has fallen on hard times,” the priest mutters out of the corner of his mouth. 

“Have you been here before?”

Biwamaru laughs drily. 

“Years and years ago. Before the _daimyo_ this village belongs to declared war on his neighbours. After that, well—,” he shrugs, not bothering to finish. 

This is what life truly is, outside the idyllic bubble of Daigo. It leaves a bitter aftertaste in Tahomaru’s mouth. What right do these lords and _samurai_ have to drag their people into senseless wars? Isn’t it the duty of the lord to protect his people? 

Then again, those words were taught to him by his father. Do they even have value anymore?

Lost in his thoughts, he nearly bumps into his brother. Hyakkimaru stands stock-still in the middle of the road, his head tilted to the side. 

A covered wagon lies unattended. The few market stalls there were have been closed. The wind picks up, and the cloth covering the wagon lifts up, just a corner, and that’s when Tahomaru sees it. 

An inhuman hand, black veins standing out starkly on green-tinted skin. 

Hyakkimaru moves faster than Tahomaru’s eyes can follow. The wagon splits in half from a strike of his dual blades, and the ghoul’s visage is revealed. 

It’s an ugly creature, vaguely amphibian in its unnaturalness and all the more grotesque for being on land. 

This time, Tahomaru is ready. He unsheathes his _katana_ in one swift motion and leaps into the fray. In perfect unison, Hyakkimaru cuts the creature’s torso while he beheads it. 

Blood splatters on the dusty village road. As the ghoul writhes in its death-throes and finally goes limp, Tahomaru stares at Hyakkimaru sheathing his blades and wonders—

 _Is this what it feels like? To have a brother. Someone to match you, stand beside you,_ fight _beside you._

Abruptly, Hyakkimaru steps in front of him. He kneels down, uncaps his wooden arm and in careful, practiced motions, spells out his name. 

 _Hya-kki-maru._ One hundred demons. 

His brother looks up at him expectantly, and for once, Tahomaru knows exactly what to do.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I live! Thankfully, my exams are over and I can finally finish this fic. I think it’ll be wrapped in one or two more chapters. Thanks to everyone who’s stuck by this long <3  
> Feel free to drop a line at  
> [my tumblr](https://chilled-ice-cubes.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> The obligatory time travel fic! Dororo inspired me to finally click the ao3 'post' button and here I am. I'll try to update whenever I can.


End file.
